Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Then my mind flashed to that waiter with his gun to Tia’s head, his arm hooked around her throat.
I rolled to my side, pulled her tighter against me, locking her against my body, burying my face in her hair, which smelled like it was supposed to. It took a while to fall asleep but when I did, I did it grateful to have her in my arms and vowing no one would ever fucking touch her again. I didn’t know how I’d manage that but fuck, I’d die trying to keep her safe.
Two hours later I had to go beat on my heavy bag because nightmares of Tia under a pile of rubble, her beautiful face crushed, that hair covered in blood, woke me up.
Dare left me alone. I don’t know how long he was gone but I needed to do something. I needed the beach. Our spot. It would help me feel like me again, maybe. If it didn’t work, I’d have to fake an illness or something to get out of being seen by the Kruna leadership team for the rest of the day. I was undone.
The beach. It’d help.
I picked my clothing up off the floor and put it back on, and then I brushed my hair and checked the mirror. I didn’t look like me. I looked like her. Felicia. The slave who just beat someone bloody with a dragon’s tail whip.
I turned away from myself in disgust, walked out of the bathroom, and slipped on my flipflops. I felt for my collar to count my three strands. And then I walked out of the room and down the hall. I saw Truly coming out of a room a few doors down. She was wearing a double-strand collar and an emerald green merry widow corset with black thigh-highs and metallic green stilettos.
“Felicia,” she greeted, a little smile on her mouth.
“Truly,” I said.
She slowed.
“Walk with you?” she asked.
I was a little surprised.
“I heard what happened with Cleo,” she whispered, “Bravo.”
I slow-blinked.
“I need to warn you about something,” she said very low, her hand covering her mouth.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Are you allowed to come to the slave garden? There’s a corner where we can talk that won’t be picked up by cameras. It’s very important.”
“Um…”
She was still talking behind her hand, scratching her cheek to try to guard that her lips were moving.
“I have about three hours free before I have to get ready for tonight’s party. If there’s any way you can get to me, please do. Your current situation depends on it.” She slipped away down a hall.
I walked out the door and toward the beach, holding my collar the entire time, feeling the strands, feeling that there were three of them.
I didn’t go far. I was easily visible from the patio. I sat in the sand right at the lapping water and stared at the water, thinking about what I’d done, thinking about who I used to be, and wondering who I was now.
I scooped up water and splashed my face. I fell forward on my knees and scooped more water into my hair. And then more. My hair started to go wavy. I sat down and played with a lock of the length of my now curling hair.
“What the fuck?” Dare’s voice broke me out of a daze.
I let go of my hair and glanced up at him.
“I’ve been looking for you. I was ready to tear this fucking place apart!”
He was mad at me.
I blinked at him. My mouth opened. Anger radiated from every one of Dare’s pores.
I lifted my hand and panned it out in front of me, gesturing at the beach, the water. I grabbed my collar and mouthed, “Three.”
It must have satisfied him, been self-explanatory that I had to come to the one spot here that made me feel something other than dread and felt like I could because I was convinced I had my three-strand collar on, because he took in our surroundings and the anger drained out of his face. He went to his knees in the sand and thrust his fingers into his hair.
“I was fuckin’ worried sick.”
“I’m sorry, Master,” I said softly.
He pulled me against him.
I buried my face into his throat. I held him tight. Tears threatened. I pushed them away.
“I don’t wanna be Felicia again.”
He pulled back to look at me. He looked torn up. Remorseful.
”I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t want this. I fucked up.”
“Tell me to be your good girl,” I pleaded. “I’ll be your good girl for the rest of the trip and then maybe I won’t have to be her anymore after this.”
“I won’t call you that name again. I love you, baby. Fuck, that scared me. You scared me. You okay?”
He brushed my hair away from my face.
I nodded.
“They’re watching. They saw me strut this way, pissed.”